


Revenge

by sxpiosexualx



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Sweethearts, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Modern AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, Revenge AU, Slow Burn, and I mean really really slow, as in youre gonna have to bear with me to get to jonsa, jon and her arent related, jonsa, sansa is an only child, this is also my first attempt be nice lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-05 02:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14034408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxpiosexualx/pseuds/sxpiosexualx
Summary: Sansa Stark moves into the Hamptons under her new identity, Alayne stone, with one objective: to get revenge on the Baratheons for what they did to her father. The only complication? No one prepared her for her own feelings getting in the way.





	1. Jon I

**Jon**

There were times - not many, but a few - when Jon Snow was glad of the more slow paced, mundane, life he lived. The Hamptons were notorious for its summer parties, and along with its booming social life came the drama and scandals littered on the pages of its tabloids. 

He settled back in his seat on a bench overseeing the scene before him - of young women walking out of boutiques with shopping bags larger than what he deemed reasonable, considering that they would be back for another purchase before the week ends to keep up with the ever-changing trends, and of young men in their business suits and cars too expensive to be passed off as anything they bought for themselves, no doubt owed to their fathers’ wealths. It seemed to him all people ever did these days was live for the validation of others, keeping up with each other in who can outdo the other so as to not break the illusion of how superficial their world had become. _I’d much rather spend my weekend unwinding on a park bench with time for no one but myself than keep up with that._ He stretched his arm and stroked Ghost behind the ear.

In truth Jon was in much need of a break, away from the tiresome job he had taken over, tending the bar down at _The Stowaway_. It was his father’s bar, and unlike the fortunate few who resided in the Hamptons who would come to inherit a great deal of wealth from their fathers, a job at _The Stowaway_ was all he could hope for. Still, he decided he preferred it over the busy lifestyle these people had acquired. While he owed his nights to serving customers, his mornings were his - undisturbed, and free to do whatever he wanted with them.

Perhaps there were better things a man of his age could be doing on a Saturday morning, instead of spending it alone after walking his dog, but he appreciated the freedom to choose to be alone nonetheless. “I’m not truly alone,” he muttered, “I’ve got you, Ghost… you’re the only company I need.” At that, Ghost tilted his head, and Jon could not help but think the canine was mocking his sincerity. Ghost was in his later years, all white fur and red beady eyes, and like Jon, he was not one for noise. The dog had not always been his, Jon had agreed to take after him years ago, on behalf of a childhood friend he had not seen since… but it would not do to dwell on memories from a summer long ago, and of a little girl with fiery embers in her hair that he once knew.

While lost in his thoughts, Ghost had leapt up suddenly and padded away from him excitedly. Jon had no choice but to follow, calling out for him to come back, he could not remember the last time his dog had displayed such enthusiasm. To his surprise, his four-legged friend had run off to greet an approaching figure - a young lady - leaping at his victim and showering her in sloppy kisses. The auburn haired stranger had knelt to embrace him, out of courtesy or defeat Jon could not tell, but he had no choice but to kneel down as well, to fend off his dog’s unanticipated attentions. “Ghost, boy! What’s the matter with you?” Jon asked as he knelt to pull him away, looking up to meet two deep blue eyes that seemed to draw his full attention. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, “he’s usually not this friendly.” He smiled, and for a moment he nearly came to regret it as he was met with a wall of icy courtesy, impenetrable and unreadable. He glanced away long enough to notice that the encounter with Ghost had muddied the dress this stranger had been carrying, “You got mud on your dress.”

“Oh, it’s… that’s no big deal,” the girl responded, with a reassuring smile.

“There’s an _Earl and Emma’s Dry Cleaners_ right around the corner,” he gestured. “I can walk you over.” _It’s the least I can offer._

“Oh, that’s okay… I’ve got it,” she said, as she got up and proceeded to leave, “Thanks.”

Jon did not know what compelled him to continue, but he heard himself say, “Well, hey! Tell Earl and Emma you’re a friend of Jon Snow’s. My family owns the tavern down by the docks, _the Stowaway_ … What’s your name? I’ll put you on the official comp list.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she assured him, waving her hand in dismissal as she continued to leave.

“ _I’m_ not picking your tab, Ghost here is, he feels terrible, don’t you, boy?” 

“Thanks anyway.”

“Alrighty then…” he finished, as he watched her hurry into her car. “You have a great summer ahead of you,” he added, unsure of why.

A strange sense of familiarity washed over him, and suddenly unbidden memories came flowing into his mind, clear as though he had just experienced them. He remembered the cool breeze of the summer mornings that greeted him on the beach, and the icy cold waves that would sweep up to tickle his feet. He remembered the snow white puppy prancing with excitement as he entertained his owner, and the chance meeting that had introduced him to the little girl with auburn hair and deep blue eyes that he would later come to proudly acknowledge as his best friend, no, his childhood sweetheart. “I’m Jon,” he remembered himself saying, after a moment of playing with her and her dog.

With a smile that lit up his heart, she said, “I’m Sansa.”


	2. Sansa I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets started on business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter from Sansa's POV. More will be revealed soon enough, but note that the events of this chapter takes place before her encounter with Jon. I felt that it was important for me to start from Jon's POV so his was the first! If it seems like Sansa is OOC, take into account she's been through a lot and is quite literally under a new identity. Hope you enjoy and stick with this! More POV characters will emerge soon! x

**Sansa**

Sansa stood with her feet planted in the sand, taking in the sight before her. A curtain of silk hung over the sky, and the air was seasoned with salt. Overhead, the seagulls flew, mocking her with the freedom of their winged flight. The waves came crashing into the sun-bleached shore, snaking up to greet her toes with rivulets of icy water. Along with it came the echo of a life she once lived.

She had first walked the shore of this beach as a child, strolling down its quiet sand with her father in hand. They had come down from their newly owned beach house, eager to welcome a new life ahead of them, with the promise of warm summer days and cozy nights. The sea had been just as unforgiving, its embraces coaxing jilts from her limbs as the cold waves threatened to send her running back to shore. Sansa could not help but yelp, laughing at her petty attempts to keep still. Her father smiled at her gently, “Do you want to know a trick, sweetling? Plant your feet in the sand and stand still through the whole first wave. And then the next wave is going to feel warmer. And the one after that is going to feel warmer still, and finally you’re barely going to notice the cold at all.” It hurt to remember how happy she had been, her recollection reeling her in and the sea a culprit for invoking the memory, threatening to drown her in thought.

“You must come from a family of polar bears. That water’s ice cold,” an intruding voice said.

When Sansa looked up, she was met with an approaching figure, tall and lean, with soft dark hair that fell past her shoulders and dark eyes that met her gaze. _Taena Merryweather._ “Only at first,” she finally said. “After a while you can’t feel anything.”

“Sounds like my marriage,” the woman quipped. “You must be the new renter.”

“Alayne Stone. Word gets around fast,” Sansa added.

“Like lightning. I’m Taena Merryweather,” she said with a smile, reaching out her hand. “My husband and I own the beach house you’re staying in.”

Sansa shook her hand and feigned surprise. “Oh! Oh wow, it’s so nice to finally meet you. I can’t tell you how much I love it.”

“Me too. Some good memories were made there,” she said to her.

“Well hopefully I can make some of my own.”

“So long as we don’t have to take it out of your damage deposit,” she jested. “Welcome to the Hamptons.” With that she spun away and walked off, leaving Sansa alone once again. 

She turned her attentions back to sea, the deep blue inviting her for a swim. Sansa removed her robe and reduced herself to only the one piece she wore underneath. She plunged herself in, the waves crashing against her body and engulfing her in numbness - a sensation she had made her herself familiar with over the years.

After, safe in the solitude of the beach house, Sansa pulled out her laptop and played the footage from an old news reporting of her father’s trial. _“Federal prosecutors wrapped up their case for treason against disgraced hedge fund executive Eddard Stark. Taking the stand was Stark's secretary, Taena Merryweather, whose testimony supported the damning allegations made by Stark's former boss, Robert Baratheon. Baratheon's testimony detailed the scheme Stark used to channel money to the terrorists responsible for the downing of flight 1-9-7. All 246 Americans onboard that flight were killed.”_ She looked up from her screen, lost in another memory that took place right where she was seating, in the same space. 

The details came back to her all at once, painting a vivid sense of clarity. The rattan sofa that once resided in the living room had since been replaced with an eggshell lounge, and the walls of the room had been a warmer shade of blue once, no doubt repainted. And the night seemed warmer still, the sea breeze from an unlatched window being the only circulation. She remembered how she had rushed to her father, asking whether he preferred sea glass or starfish, and handing him the starfish she had picked up on the beach when he responded with the latter. Just then, his phone had rung, and he answered to the voice of a woman, “Ned, it’s Cersei—” and just as quickly, he told her to run along. 

“Why don’t you take care of Ghost over there?” he urged. Sansa knew when she was not welcomed, and she got up to walk over to the snow white pup, doing as he bid her. 

She remembered trailing after the whelp, past the front door when a man appeared and grabbed him away, as another dressed uniformly alike flashed a light from his gun and marched in. The others soon followed. She remembered the confusion that struck her, and the fear that clung to her. She remembered screaming out for her father as the men dressed all in black, and armed with guns had knocked him to his feet, tackling him and announcing his arrest. She remembered the quizzical look plastered on his face as he had frantically told them they were making a mistake. She remembered how she had scrambled to him then, in a desperate attempt to free him upon a childish hope that he would somehow comfort her with an embrace, as he had so many times before. She had been grabbed then, and carried away, kicking and screaming all the while. The last thing she remembered being her father’s distressed voice, calling out her name.

Then she was back in the living room, in the present, brought back by the same voice that had approached her on the beach earlier. _“Eddard Stark had everyone fooled, including me. I'm just glad I can help put that monster away.”_ She paused the video, and pulled a file out on her laptop. Incriminating pictures of Taena’s coupling with Robert Baratheon from a window view at the inn they had frequented spilled out as Sansa scrolled through them, all the while plotting how she would take down her first victim. Taena’s false testimony had contributed to her father’s downfall, and where justice had failed him then, Sansa was determined to make her own.

The next afternoon, Sansa had arranged for tea with her friend, Jeyne Poole, at the Southfork Inn. Jeyne had been her only existing friend in the Hamptons, and had helped her settle into her new home upon arrival. She had been working for Cersei Lannister, Robert’s wife, and had voiced out her complaint on a function she was in charge of organising for Cersei’s latest upcoming event. At the mention of her name, Sansa had feigned ignorance. “You’re kidding! Cersie Lannister, reigning queen of the Hamptons. Not to mention, your next door neighbour,” Jeyne had told her.

“ _Queen_ Cersei?” Sansa urged.

“Believe me, she’s earned that title. My boss has me handling her guest list for her Memorial Day party. If I screw this up, I might as well move back to Croydon,” Jeyne explained.

“Well, how much are the tickets? Count me in for one,” she chimed in. _It would be a good opportunity to make my debut…_

“Are you sure?” 

“It's for a good cause, right?”

Jeyne huffed. “Yeah, my career. Thank you.”

That had not been the only opportunity Sansa had seized. In truth her arrangement for tea with Jeyne was an excuse to make an appearance at the Southfork. Unfortunately, after waiting sometime at her table, Jeyne had regrettably called to say that the million-dollar art auction she was dealing with for Cersei meant she would not be meeting her this afternoon. As if on cue however, Sansa glanced up to see Taena walking through the lobby of the inn. She snapped a quick picture while her phone had still been at ear, and reassured Jeyne that all is good, even offering to pick up her dress from the boutique she had ordered it from considering her schedule. A moment later, Robert Baratheon himself had stumbled through the front door, no doubt making his way to his paramour. Sansa smiled to herself.

“More tea?” a serving girl had offered. She looked up to meet her, a name tag spelling out the girl’s name, uniform informing everyone she worked here. _My way in,_ Sansa thought.

With a smile, she said “Please.”


	3. Cersei I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take a walk in the heels of the reigning queen of the Hamptons herself, Cersei Lannister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sticking with the endgame I have planned but the story can't be told with just Jon and Sansa's chapters alone. So here is Cersei's POV. I had a lot of fun getting into her mind and translating that onto a modern setting, hopefully you guys enjoy it as much as I did writing it! All of these characters are plagued with memories, and I have a good time playing around with that so you'll just have to put up with the occasional crumbs I insert!

**Cersei**

From high atop her balcony, Cersei Lannister stood overseeing the field that lay beyond the mansion, its slopes and turns spreading out, guiding her eyes to the coast below. She welcomed the morning breeze that tousled her blonde hair and sent a chill to her spine. She had dreamt the same dream that haunted her, of stark grey eyes that had once harboured affection, dissipating into an accusatory glare full of pain and disdain, like a ghost visiting an old lover, unwilling to part. Many a night she would dream that dream, and would wake to a cold sweat, her mind a scramble. Often on such mornings, she found herself on the balcony, her feet leading the way themselves.

Her eyes landed on the blue beach house, as they had so many times before. For a while, she stood pondering about what could have been. _No, this is the life I chose._ Content, she began to retreat when she noticed a figure moving about on the veranda. For a moment, she had thought, hoped, against all logic defying odds that she might be greeted with a familiar face. Disappointment caught up to her upon focusing. _It is just a girl. A pretty little one too._ Taena had spoken of the new renter a fortnight ago, when Cersei had hosted a meeting to discuss the art auction she would be holding for Memorial Day with her trail of friends, each more eager to win her favour than the last. If truth be told, Cersei Lannister did not have a great deal of friends. _Friends are assets, and each as treacherous if you allow them to be. And every one just waiting for me to slip._

Taena Merryweather had been her truest friend however, and when she confided in Cersei of her financial struggles following her divorce, Cersei had comforted her. “Orton's threatening to put the beach house on the market if I don't release my claim on the West Side walk-up. It's bad enough having some stranger renting it out… I can't bear the thought of losing it to one of the she-wolves,” she glanced at the party of women behind them.

“Don’t let them see your weakness, it’s the first thing they’ll use against you,” Cersei advised.

Robert had left before she rose, off to retreat on one of his frequent golfing escapades. She saw less of him over the years, but that did not bother her. She broke her fast on a platter of boiled eggs, alongside a rasher of bacon, with freshly baked and toasted slices of bread, butter readily available, and a spread of cut fruits that had been prepared for her by the help. _Fit for a queen,_ she thought. It still amused her to be treated as befit her standing. She ate alone, in one of the large dining halls that occupied the space of the mansion they lived in. Myrcella had snuck out for another long night with her friends, and no doubt came home in dire need of rest. Robert had enabled this childish behaviour, “Let the girl have some fun, she got straight A’s again,” he had said. _No one accused her of being stupid, you fool._ As for Tommen, her firstborn, she would be expecting him soon enough. Tommen was in his second year of college, and had promised to spend his summer home with the family. Cersei glanced at the long table that stretched before her, its seats unoccupied. _Soon enough,_ she mused. She swallowed her loneliness down with a glass of wine.

After breakfast, Cersei had retreated back to her chambers and into the walk-in closet that proved a great deal of space. She chose her outfit of the day with care, strategically pairing the dress of her choice with shoes that matched in shade. Turning to her jewellery cabinet, she chose a pair of sophisticated pearl earrings with a gold trim to complement her ensemble. It was important for her to look her best at all time. _They are all watching,_ Cersei told herself. She had plans to oversee and negotiate which pieces of art from her personal collection would be auctioned off this weekend. She faced the large vanity, finishing up on her final touches. The years had left Cersei Lannister with many and more — her beauty untouched by time’s thieving hands — but what it took from her instead proved more painful in actuality.

“Mother!” Myrcella had broke in. Her daughter shared the same blonde hair she had, but her eyes… “Do you think I’m tan enough for my first day down at the beach or do I need another spray tan?”

Cersei studied her and her petty excuse of swimwear that clung to her slender figure, barely concealing much of anything. “What you need is a new bathing suit, my dear.”

“You should see what my friends are wearing. Compared to them, this is conservative,” she pouted.

It frustrated her how little her daughter had grasped about the world they lived in, about the name they carried. Still, it was hard to stay mad at her only daughter. “Unlike the rest of your friends, it’s important to me that you don’t end up on page six of—”

“Tommy’s home!” Myrcella interrupted with an excitable gasp as she turned away from the window that gave view to the extensive driveway, Tommen’s car pulling up ahead. She dashed past her and made her way down the stairs to greet her brother at the door.

Cersei joined her soon after, abandoning her vanity in favour of her son, her firstborn, her pride and joy. Going down the steps, she was met with an intimate moment shared between her children, as Myrcella was just releasing her brother from a hug. “Oh, Tommy I’m so glad to see you! I’ve missed you so much!” the younger girl said.

“I’m happy to see you too,” he returned with a smile.

It was a scene so pure that for a brief second Cersei had stopped in her tracks. Content to watch, and unwilling to disturb the sight before her. Yet she stepped forward to announce herself all the same. _I have waited long enough,_ she allowed. “Welcome home, Tommen.”

Her son stood at the foot of the entrance with his blonde hair sitting perfectly in place, but for the shades he had sitting on his head. He did not lack for good looks however, and a bit of disarray from those sunglasses would scarcely come to affect that. His soft green eyes met hers, and a genuine wide grin graced his youthful face. “Hi mom,” he returned with an affectionate smile, walking over to meet her with a hug as Myrcella announced her departure - eager to meet with friends. _He has grown so much,_ she thought as she embraced him tightly. “She’s growing up fast,” he remarked.

“Oh, too fast,” Cersei said. _You haven’t the slightest idea, my child._ “Are you hungry?” she asked.

“You know, I’m a little wiped out actually. I think I’ll just lay down for a bit.”

“Yes, well, you look tired,” she agreed.

“Studying does that to a guy,” he jested.

“So will partying, I take it,” she said, not unkindly. She took his hand and led him up the stairs.

“Where’s dad? Golfing?” he asked as they made their way up.

“Where else?”

“Yep, where else,” he added.

Cersei had returned her attentions to the pieces of art from her collection, pondering once again on which pieces had grown disposable to her. She looked fondly at the Van Gogh, remembering what Taena had said. “I don’t care how good the cause is, if you put up the Van Gogh that Orton and I gave you I’ll kill myself!” her friend had joked.

“The Van Gogh is off limits for sentimental reasons,” she reassured her then.

Her train of thought was disturbed with a phone call. The hospital had called to inform her that Robert had collapsed, and was sent straight to the emergency room. Cersei had dropped everything and left at once.

Rushing to her husband’s hospital bed, a nurse had just drawn back the curtains to reveal him alive and well, as she approached. “Oh, my God, Robert. I thought I was going to find you dead!” she exclaimed.

“I’m fine,” he said reassuringly.

“What happened?” she demanded.

A doctor tended to her and explained. “Acute abdominal dyspepsia. The remorse of a guilty stomach.”

“Your staff made it sound as if he was having a heart attack,” she said accusingly, laughing in relief.

“Well, depending on the severity, the symptoms can be identical,” the doctor started. “As far as I can tell, your husband's as healthy as a thoroughbred. But I do suggest that he stay away from the Southfork Inn's spicy bisque for a while.”

That alerted her. She shot a look at the doctor, then back at her husband. “The _Southfork Inn?_ ” she questioned.

“Yeah,” Robert replied, his eyes hesitant to meet hers.

“I thought you went golfing.”

“Yeah, I did… earlier,” he said.

“The Southfork’s a half hour in the opposite direction,” she pressed. The doctor and nurse retreated to give them some privacy.

“I’m aware of that,” Robert said. “Well, you know, I just get in the way when you’re planning one of your parties. I just thought I would go for a drive and stay out of your hair for a while,” he insisted. “And I’m sorry that I scared you,” he added with a smile.

For a moment Cersei was content, until she glanced over to the white robe that lay abandoned on the bed, with the Southfork logo sewn so damning onto the cotton. Robert turned to eye it too, and Cersei grabbed his face with both her hands to make him face her, his eyes fighting to not betray his guilt. Knowingly, she shook him to meet his eyes. 

“Don’t do it again,” she said sharply, smiling as she caressed his face, and took her leave.


	4. Sansa II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa attends Cersei's Memorial Day party, and meets Tommen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is she up to now?

**Sansa**

The morning of Cersei’s Memorial Day party dawned bright and windy. Sansa donned a close-fitting white dress, its fabric draped over her left shoulder. She paid extra attention to her hair, ensuring her beach curls fell effortlessly perfect over each cheek before embarking for the docks. She had to look presentable for what she intended to do next.

Every yacht in her peripheral had been decorated with proud blues and reds, with flags billowing in the summer wind, each a testament to the patriotism and pride so embedded in the day’s events. The decks were furnished with seating arrangements and clothed tables, every one embellished with an arrangement of flowers. Music filled the air over the chatter of guests, already onboard the party boats with drinks in hand. Men and ladies dressed their best, in luxurious suits and dresses of a flurry of colours. She knew she was a woman on a mission, but it did not stop her from appreciating the scale of the event. Sansa had been approached by a passing serving man, offering a platter of hors d’oeuvres but before she could accept she was whisked away by Jeyne who had just spotted her. “Look at you, you look beautiful!” the girl said. She wore a rose-coloured chiffon dress that complemented her figure.

“Me? Look at you!” Sansa said, excitedly. “Look at this event! Congratulations on pulling this off.”

“Well, it’s too early for that - haven’t you seen “The Titanic”?” she joked. 

Sansa looked around her, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. “So how well do you know all these people?” she asked.

“Well enough to know who to keep away from and who to snuggle up to,” Jeyne said. Sansa took it upon herself to ask for a quick tutorial and Jeyne obliged, putting names to the faces to a few of the strangers on sight as they walked arm in arm. She pointed out the Mayor’s niece in an orange Escada dress, and a woman in green whom Jeyne dubbed as especially important on account for her being a shoe buyer for Barneys of New York.

Atop the deck of another party boat she spotted him, with sun rays dancing on his golden crown of hair. “Grey suit boy is kinda cute,” she prompted Jeyne, all the while keeping her eye him.

“That’s Tommen Baratheon, Cersei’s tragically privileged spawn. Tommen wrapped his convertible around a tree last summer after one too many,” Jeyne informed her.

“Didn’t hurt his face much,” Sansa quipped.

“Yeah, it didn’t work out quite as well for the waitress he was shagging. His parents paid off everyone and their mother to keep him out of jail.” They continued along before Jeyne paused in her tracks upon seeing a familiar face. _Tarly._ “And the plot thickens,” she said, dreadfully.

“Who’s that?”

“Samwell Tarly - former tech boom whiz kid and perennial pain in the arse. If you emptied the bank accounts of everyone at this party, it wouldn't add up to the interest he makes in a week,” Jeyne whispered, slowing down her pace to allow for Tarly to trail off in the other direction. They walked past a cabin door that had been wide open, inside, Cersei Lannister stood entertaining her guests with courtesies and that treacherous smile that could deceive even the most honourable of men, that she wore so well. “And that’s Queen Cersei.” They walked past a window, all the while peering through to the scene before them. Cersei was greeting a friend with a hug, and for a brief moment her green eyes met hers, before turning her attention back to her guest. “I think she’s spotted you,” Jeyne said.

“Good,” said Sansa. “Introduce us.”

By the time they made their way around Cersei had just walked over to Taena Merryweather’s side. _Perfect,_ Sansa thought. She had last seen Taena on the day of Robert’s collapse. Taena had rushed after him as the paramedics wheeled him into the ambulance, and Sansa - who had orchestrated his unfortunate collapse - which took no more effort than tempering with his food service and delivering it to his door herself in the guise of a server - had waited around the corner of the inn to seize the perfect opportunity of catching her with him. She swooped in as she saw the scene unfold, feigning surprise. “Taena? It’s Alayne, oh my god, is that your husband?” she asked. The woman stared at her, overwhelmed and caught in the affair. “Is he okay?” she asked again, and at that Taena had turned around and fled the scene without saying a word. That was all she needed.

“Ms. Lannister, forgive me for interrupting,” Jeyne began. “I just wanted to introduce you to a dear friend of mine. Cersei Lannister, Alayne Stone.”

“Hello, Ms. Lannister,” Sansa said with the most pleasant of smiles she could manage to muster.

“Ah, Miss Stone,” Cersei said, knowingly. “I was wondering who the late entry was on the guest roster.” She had the grace to smile.

“Well, Alayne’s new to the Hamptons, but she really wanted to take part in your fund-raiser,” Jeyne added.

“Oh,” said Cersei. “How do you two know each other?”

“We volunteered together at the met this winter,” Sansa informed her. Part of selling her plan included building a good repute.

“Apparently being a sustaining patron just wasn’t enough for Alayne,” Jeyne teased. Cersei smiled at that, resigned.

“I try to give back as much as I can,” Sansa assured. She glanced to Taena who seemed to have been avoiding Cersei altogether just before Jeyne interrupted. “Taena,” she called out, forcing her to centre her attention toward them. Sansa gave a cheerful greeting as she turned around to face them.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve taken up volunteering at the met as well,” Cersei said, threatening to laugh.

“Alayne’s renting my house for the summer,” Taena said. “We met briefly on the beach.”

“And then yesterday at the Southfork Inn,” Sansa said. At that both women stiffened. “I hope your husband’s feeling better,” she added, for good measure.

Tension filled the air for a moment before Cersei eyed Taena up and down, gave another one of her ever so graceful smiles, and walked off in the other direction leaving the woman to trail off after her. Sansa excused herself away from Jeyne soon after, determined to put her other plan to motion right away.

She found herself on the party boat parked right by the one they had been on, where she knew she would find a certain golden haired boy. He was leaning against the railing, a drink in hand, talking to another young man around his age. For a moment, Sansa contemplated everything then, _I’ve made it this far,_ she thought. _My courage can’t abandon me now, not when everyone else has._ She picked up a drink by the bar and made her way toward him.

In a swift strategic motion, she spilled her drink over his shoulder, making sure to grab his attention. “Oh my God!” she said, as Tommen turned around to see his offender. “I’m so sorry. God, I’m such an idiot.” She made herself blush.

“No, don’t worry about it,” he said, wiping away what he could and taking off his suit. “It’s, uh, it’s probably the universe telling me I need a costume change,” he faced her then, committing this unfamiliar face to memory. Sansa smiled. He found his words a moment after. “Uh, I’m Tommen,” he finally said.

“Alayne,” Sansa replied, offering her hand to shake his.

“How about I get you a dry martini,” he offered. “Twice the alcohol, half the stain potential,” he added, glancing at his stained coat.

“Sure,” she said, making sure to smile her best smile.

And so they went off, picking up a drink by the bar and getting to know each other as they went. The air was warm and heavy with the scent of salt from the sea, masked in fragrances of different perfumes and colognes, and here and there Sansa would catch whiffs of aroma from the fresh flowers that decorated the tables. Before long, people started gathering around the foyer of the boat once more, awaiting an announcement by the hostess herself, Cersei Lannister. Tommen offered her his hand and walked her there, joining the crowd.

The queen stood atop her platform on the opposite boat, facing the crowd, mic in hand. Behind her stood two men in uniform guarding her, alongside a piece of framed artwork she no doubt meant to auction. “Good afternoon everyone, and happy Memorial Day,” she started, and the crowed applauded, acknowledging her presence. “I wanted the theme of today’s party to signify a fresh start for all of us. As difficult as these last few years have been, they have been devastating on our charities. But now, as things are beginning to turn around, I’m looking forward to giving back, and I know that all of you are, too,” she turned her eyes to Taena sitting across the platform at a table just then, smiling ever so gracefully. “So to start things off right, I’d like to announce the winner of the art auction, my dear friend Taena Merryweather,” she gestured her arm out to her. “She wont be going home with with the Manet this evening, but with the treasured Van Gogh that hangs in my living room.”

The applaud reduced to whispers. “But I thought the Van Gogh was a gift from Taena and Orton,” Sansa heard a woman say to her friend. Cersei turned to whisper to one of the security guards behind her, before returning back to her microphone.

“And in related news, Taena has asked me to announce that the beach house she shared with her husband is officially on the market,” Cersei continued, as a nearby security guard moved to escort Ms. Merryweather out. “I’m afraid this will be her final weekend in the Hamptons. So call your realtors, ladies and gentlemen, because this one’s going to go fast. And Taena,” she called out, stopping her in her tracks, “wherever you end up, I hope that the Van Gogh is a constant reminder of the friendship she shared,” she added.

At that Cersei turned her attention back to the crowd, and took a deep breath. For a moment Cersei Lannister, in all her glory, looked almost vulnerable. Sansa recognised that look immediately, it was hard to forget. How could she when last she saw that same guilt infested look plastered on that woman’s face was the night they took her from her father, kicking and screaming. It was the last familiar face she saw for a long time after. “She’s really something, isn’t she? My mother,” Tommen broke her from her trance.

With her emotions newly fuelled, Sansa was determined more than ever to proceed. “She sure is.”

Tommen raised his glass to hers, “To chance meetings.” He grinned.

“To an unforgettable summer,” she cheered, clinking her glass with his.

The boy had attached himself to her all afternoon, and long after the guests had left, they remained at their table. “How many Harvard men does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” he asked. It seemed he was eager at winning her favour already.

Sansa decided she had to entertain him. “I don’t know, how many?”

“One, and the whole world just revolves around him,” he grinned, a chuckle escaping him. Surprisingly she found she had no need to feign a laugh this time. “One more?”

“Drink or joke?”

“Either… Both?” he offered.

“Neither. I am just buzzed enough to find that last joke funny,” she said. “One more, and I might think that you meant it,” she teased. “But don’t let me stop you.”

“Oh, no, no,” he said. “I’ve had about all the club soda I can take.”

“You don’t drink?”

“Used to. Epically,” he said. Sansa was content to not press him, she hummed to herself. “I gotta admit, it’s… it’s nice meeting someone who never knew the old me.”

He surprised her with that, and she found herself genuinely agreeing. “Yeah,” she nodded, “I know the feeling.” _Too well,_ she thought.

He glanced down at her wrist, catching the ink that was imprinted on her skin. “Double infinity.”

“Something like that,” she said, caught off guard.

“That’s a long time.”

Before she could think of something to say, Cersei Lannister had walked over, with her husband right behind her. “Tommen, your father and I are leaving,” she said.

Sansa rose. “Thank you for the lovely party, Ms. Lannister. It was great meeting both of you.”

“Well, now that you’ve moved in next door, I suppose we’ll be seeing a lot of you next summer,” she said. “I’ll expect you shortly, Tommen.”

“Don’t let my mom rattle you,” Tommen chimed in, as soon as they left. “Intimidation is practically a sign of endearment with her.”

“I’d hate to be on her bad side,” Sansa quipped, smiling all the while.

“Yes, you would,” he admitted. They shared another laugh.

“I should go.”

“Uh, I’m headed your way,” he started, walking after her. “You need a ride?”

“No, thanks,” Sansa smiled at that. “Maybe next time.”

“Till next time,” he said. Sansa glanced back once last time to shoot him a smile before leaving. It did not matter whether she was having a good time or otherwise, she had other things to do.

It was night time by the time she arrived home. She opened the door to the beach house and tossed her bag to a nearby armchair. She heard footsteps then, alerting her immediately and making her turn her attention to the front door. “Welcome home, Sansa,” a man said, stepping into the light of the room. “I nearly didn’t recognise you today, but that’s the whole point, isn’t it?” Samwell Tarly said.

In an instant, Sansa pinned him to a nearby post. He struggled feebly. “Do you know how easy it would be for me to crush your windpipe?” she asked, arm positioned over his throat.

“I don’t think your father would approve,” he choked, and she tightened her grip on him. “Sansa, your father trusted me,” he barely managed to say.

“My father trusted everybody,” she spat, releasing him from her grip. “What are you doing here, Samwell?”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry!” he said, tossing his hands in up in surrender. “Your secret’s safe. No one wants this imperious cadre of toxic phonies to eat it more than yours truly,” he added, straightening himself. “So how can I be of service?” he asked.

“You can’t. You’re not a part of this.”

“Yes, I am,” he insisted. “Remember, I witnessed firsthand what these people did to your father. They’re hard-core.”

“I can handle them. And I have no problem taking you down too, if you get in my way.”

“I don’t want to get in your way, I want to help you,” he pleaded.

“You can’t help me, Samwell.”

“Suit yourself,” he finally said after a moment. “But I can be just as powerful an enemy as any one of them. Just sayin’.” He started to retreat before stopping. “Oh,” he added, “You might be interested to know, I had a nice chat with Jon Snow tonight. Guess who’s still carrying a torch for little Sansa Stark?”

“Sansa Stark no longer exists,” she said. He left her then.

Samwell Tarly seemed to be the same person he was all those years ago. His loyalty to her father unfailing. She had first met him the day she was emancipated from the juvenile facility that kept her for years. As she walked out of the gates and into the world, she had been greeted by a black SUV that pulled up right by her. Stepping out was Tarly himself, with his shaggy chestnut hair. Perhaps some things did change after all, he no longer wore a half trimmed goatee for one. “Sansa Stark,” he said to her then.

“Who are you?” she had asked him.

“Samwell Tarly. Friend of your father’s,” he announced. “You’re not exactly the little angel he described.”

“My father hasn’t seen me in ten years.”

His expression changed at that. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you,” he paused. “He passed away. Six weeks ago.” Her heart sank. _All these weeks, years…_ she remembered herself thinking. “He wanted you to have something.” He reached into the car to pull out a wooden box.

The pain and anguish had been too much to bear that Sansa turned away then and refused. “Whatever that is, I don’t want it.”

“Oh, no, no, trust me. You definitely do,” Tarly said, putting the wooden chest atop the hood of his car.

“My father was a murderer and a liar,” it hurt her to say that even then, after all those years. “So why would I trust you, huh?”

“‘Cause that’s just what they want you to believe,” he said. “Forget everything that you think you know, Sansa. Your father was protecting you.”

“From what?” she demanded, confused and hurt.

“Open the box. Find out.”

She had spent so long trying to forget her father that the very sight of that box threatened to undo all her composure. Yet she approached it all the same. It was a dark wooden chest, with a double infinity engraved on the lid, a signature symbol that her father would tell her reflected how much he loved her a lifetime ago. Fighting back the tears that threatened to leave her eyes, she hesitantly opened the box. Inside, attached to the lid, had been framed photo of her and her father. “Your father was the first person who believed in me,” Tarly had said. “He invested in my company when no one else would.” The chest was full of pocket sized journals, a wrist watch in one corner, and a sealed letter that read ‘Sansa’. “That key, it opens a lock box in Zurich. Now that you’re eighteen, you’re officially 49% owner of my company,” he explained. “Board meetings are every other Wednesday, but you don’t have to show up.” She had tuned his voiced out then, focusing on the letter that was in her hands.

Now, sitting in the living room she once called home, she revisited that letter, taking it out of the very same box Samwell had given her all those years ago. It read:

_“My dear Sansa,_

_If you’re reading this, then two things have come to pass; I am able to provide you the life you were unjustly denied, and sadly, I won’t be able to share that life with you.  
I hope these journals provide answers to the questions you’ve had all these years. I am not the man they say I am and I did not do the things they say I did._

_All I ask if that you promise to do the one thing that’s been so hard for me to do._

_Forgive.”_

But that was a promise Sansa could not keep. Her father’s chance to bring justice to the truly guilty was stolen from him. His only option was to forgive. _I have others,_ she mused. She put aside the letter and tugged on a latch that revealed a hidden layer below the chest, slim enough to fit a photo she now took into her hands. That picture had been taken at a company trip, CEOs, important board members, and friends alike had posed for a group photo. To them it had been merely a photo taken so that they may look back and reflect on it one day, but to Sansa, it presented her with the faces of the people who were responsible for framing her father. She took out a red sharpie, and found the face of Mrs. Merryweather, crossing it out with an ‘X’ mark.

Eddard Stark had died an innocent man, betrayed by the woman he loved. And with everything that she ever cared about stolen from her, all Sansa had left was revenge.

**Author's Note:**

> There it is, my first attempt at writing anything. Basically I only wanted to play around with the dynamics on Revenge, and thought JonSa fit perfectly for Jack and Emily with a few alterations. Initially I wanted to do this from Sansa's first person POV but found I couldn't get into her head as well as I wanted, so we're alternating between their POVs in third person! Feedback is welcome and appreciated, hope you stick around to see what happens :) x


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